“Good, then we’ll start at Basket Street.”

“Why there?” asked Kari.

“We’ve seen Atre over that way since he bought the Crane. There didn’t seem to be any reason for it.”

“What about Thero?” asked Alec. “We’re looking for something magical and we don’t have much time. We should bring him with us, like a scent hound.”

“Don’t let him hear you call him that.” Seregil glanced out the window, gauging the time. “You two go and scout out Basket Street. I’ll meet you there in a few hours with Thero.”

Chapter 40 - Basket Street

THERO needed no persuasion. He listened in silence, then changed quickly out of his robes and tucked a few things, including his crystal wand, into a belt pouch.

Seregil restlessly scanned the scant night crowd as they made their way to the old theater; no ravens, but any of the passersby could be one of them in some other disguise.

The theater stood at the far end of Basket Street, near the poultry market. The windows were boarded up, and the front doors chained shut. Weeds had sprouted between the paving stones of the untended courtyard. It looked utterly deserted.

Glancing around to make certain no one was there to see, Seregil dismounted and led his horse to the back of the theater. They found Alec and Micum waiting for them in the alley behind it. It was deserted and strewn with refuse, weeds, and dirty feathers.

“Someone’s been coming and going pretty regularly, at least since the last rain,” Micum murmured.

“You can tell that from this mess?” whispered Thero.

“He can track a duck through water,” Alec told him.

The stage door was secured with a large, rusty padlock, but Alec already had it open.

“The wards are well oiled,” he whispered to Seregil.

He inched the door open and the four of them slipped into the silent darkness beyond. Micum closed the door; they stood a moment in the corridor, getting out lightstones and letting their eyes adjust. They were at the center of the building, with the wings extending to either side of them, and a wide central corridor opening onto the backstage area.

It was a strange, shadowy world behind the stage, like seeing the seamed side of a fine garment. A plain scrim still hung from its long rod, and a few abandoned set pieces cast madcap shadows in the glow of their stones as they moved about. To either side, the wings were divided into a maze of different rooms by sheets of coarse muslin strung from wires.